nd that.

The lookers-on were wild with delight. The beauty of the thing itself,
the willingness of the foreigners to join in the sport, aroused the
temperamental enthusiasm, and the clapping and cheering filled the hall
with noise. Suddenly the musicians dropped their instruments. They were
but human, and, since they could not keep in time with this new and
amazing dance, they drew near to admire.

"Play!" pleaded Priscilla, past heeding the sensation she was creating.
"The best is yet to come!"

Carried out of himself, entering now wholly into the adventure, Travers
caught up a violin near him and sent the bow over the strings with a
master touch. He hardly knew what he played; he was himself, carried away
on a wave of enchantment.

"Ah!"

The word escaped Priscilla like a cry of glad response.

"Now!"

They two, the musician and the dancer, seemed alone in the open space.
The flashing eyes, the cheering voices, the clapping hands, even Margaret
Moffatt, pale, puzzled, yet charmed, were obliterated. It was spring time
in the Place Beyond the Winds, and the dance of adoration was in full
swing, while the old tune, never out of time with the graceful, whirling
form, played on and on. And then--the ring melted away, the lights grew
dim, and Priscilla stood still.

"I'm--I'm tired," faltered she. A hand was laid upon her arm, some one
guided her out of the heated, breathless room; they were alone, she and
he, under wide-spreading trees, and a particularly lovely star was
pulsing overhead.

"You are crying!" Travers's voice was low and tense. "Why?"

"It--it was the music! It was like something I had heard, and--and I was
so tired. I was very foolish. Can you, can Margaret, forgive me?"

"Forgive you? Why, you were--I dare not tell you what you were! Here, sit
down. Do not tremble so! Tell me, where did you learn to dance as you
do?"

Priscilla had dropped upon the rough rustic seat; she did not seem to
notice the hand that rested upon her clasped ones under the thin scarf.
She no longer cried, but the tears shone on her long lashes.

"I--I never learned. It--it is I, myself. I thought I had grown into
something else, but--I shall always be the same--when I let myself go."

"Let yourself go? Good heavens! Why not let yourself go--forever?"
Travers's voice shook. "You have brought joy and youth to us all--to me,
who never had youth. What--who are you?" he laughed boyishly. She sat
rigidly erect and turned